Paralysis
by xFreakx
Summary: A fifteen year old boy manifests as a mutant, but the burden of his new power is more terrible than he would have thought. Short, one timer. PG-13 for language and suggested "bad things." -.- Please read and review!


Waking up was always hard to do, especially in those wintry mornings where the sun refused to rise until eight o'clock, and the chill of the outside permeated through the central heating. 6:00, the clock blinked at him, and he pulled the covers over his head and did his best to ignore it. He didn't /really/ have to get up until around 6:10 and of course every minute was worth preserving. He was nothing if not appreciative of laziness, especially on Monday mornings in December.  
  
Jonathan Silver attempted to ignore the fact that 6:10 was approaching all too rapidly, and almost, but not quite, succeeded. The blast of noise jolted him out of the half-dozing daze he'd fallen into. No use ignoring /that/, if he let it ring he'd wake the whole family and annoy them into yelling. He fell out of the bed and lurched to the alarm clock, pounding the "off" button with one hand, as he grabbed his glasses with the other.  
  
He stumbled into the bathroom, rubbing his eyes underneath the glasses. John looked at himself in the mirror as he brushed his teeth; noting that his eyes had dark circles underneath them, lack of sleep - in part a combination of insomnia and very early mornings. He spit the excess toothpaste into the sink and went back into his room, still half asleep.  
  
He dressed absently in the half-light streaming from the hallway underneath his door, pulling clothes randomly from the closet. John was a tall, thin boy, gangling and awkward looking, with the lanky appearance of one not yet finished his growth. He was pale, with a shock of bright orange hair that hung limply into his face. Beneath the thick-framed black glasses, he had light blue eyes, looking as though a few shades lighter they'd be white. He was covered in freckles. Although he did not know it, his mother bemoaned his awkwardness to her friends.  
  
This was John Silver. He was a shy, boyish fifteen year old, more comfortable with computers than with people, still watching cartoons instead of football. Still, his parents conceded, he was brilliant and, well, basically a normal boy in every other respect. He had his small group of friends, didn't drink, smoke, or cause trouble.  
  
On the other hand, his parents didn't know that he was picked on in school. Everyone has their own secrets.  
  
John ate his breakfast on the way to the bus stop, cherry frosted Pop Tarts. He felt a bit more awake after consuming the sugar, although he was still tired. It was in this state of mind, eyes drooping, that he was in when he got to the bus stop. They all shivered silently, small huddled pools of black and brown fabric, heavy winter coats little use against the biting wind.  
  
He sat next to a faceless girl he didn't know. She positioned her body as far from him as she could, feet hanging in the aisle as she blew a chewing gum bubble and talked to her friend. John sighed and huddled against the window, almost pressing his nose to the glass as he stared out, feeling trapped, an animal in a cage.  
  
"Geek," he thought he heard someone say. He ignored her.  
  
The bus disgorged the students into the halls, and he walked alone until Sam caught up with him. Sam was more cheerful than John was. He consistently wore a yarmulke even when it wasn't Saturday; his parents were extremely religious Jews and their views had rubbed off onto their son. "Hey, John," Sam said, hurrying to keep pace with the taller boy, "Guess who's got the latest issue of Hellblazer?"  
  
"Well, it's obviously not Finn," John said cynically, jerking his chin in the direction of Mark Finn, the multi-lettered blond in the varsity jacket. He saw John looking and glared, giving him the finger.  
  
"Me!"  
  
"I know, I know," John said, placating.  
  
"Good. You can read it during math," Sam said, with an impish smile.  
  
"Thanks," John said, as they walked down the hallway. Someone abruptly shoved him from behind, and John stumbled against the window, turning around to face his attacker. "Leave me alone, Finn," he said, glaring from behind the thick glasses.  
  
Mark Finn smirked, and put out a hand, pushing John in the chest. "Or you'll do what, you faggot? Ooh, I'm scared, you're going to kick my ass?" John blinked at him in confusion, because although Finn's mouth wasn't moving, he also seemed to be saying, "I'm gay. Can't show it."  
  
"You're /gay/?" John exclaimed in surprise, "And you're always calling other people f..." He stopped, because Finn punched him in the face.  
  
"Shut your fucking face, Silver!"  
  
"Leave him alone!" Sam said, attempting to step between them, although he was attempting not to laugh at the Finn's crimson-faced look.  
  
A teacher pulled them apart before John could attempt to defend himself. He went to class, dazed, and tried to figure out how he could have known that Finn was gay. It was as clear as if he'd said it out loud, but John knew he hadn't, or /wouldn't/. So how had he known? John sat in history, normally one of his favorite classes, but he was unable to concentrate. Everything seemed... wrong.  
  
"I wonder if he's okay?" someone asked.  
  
John glanced sideways, and decided that it had been Rachel, the girl who sat next to him. "I'm fine," he whispered.  
  
"I didn't say anything..." Rachel whispered back, sounding confused, "But I was wondering."  
  
John rocked backwards in his seat, staring at the blackboard.  
  
"Mr. Silver?" the teacher said, raising an eyebrow, "You're looking a little ill. Would you like to go and get a drink? The period's almost over, you can take your bag if you wish."  
  
"Y-yes," he said, and gathered up his books.  
  
In the hallway, he went to the water fountain and splashed the cold water onto his face, flinching away from it. He rubbed it into his skin, underneath the glasses, and stared blankly at the wall. "What's wrong with me?" he asked, but no one answered. For the moment, there was silence. A calm silence. And then... there was whispering.  
  
It started so softly that at first he wasn't even aware of the noise. It was a low insidious sound, making him snap his head around in a futile attempt to find the source. John frowned. "Is anyone there?" he said, but his voice sounded muffled, as though his ears had been covered with cotton. "Hello?"  
  
The whispers grew louder, and he could begin to discern individual voices. Jonathan thought he recognized some of them but he couldn't remember names or connect them to the sounds.  
  
"...god, this is so boring..."  
  
"I wonder if he likes me..."  
  
"Man, Mrs. Martin is a fine-ass bitch..."  
  
"I think I'm going to throw up..."  
  
"...why can't I just die...?"  
  
John dropped his books, and slapped himself in the face, trying to snap out of whatever weird delusional mood he'd fallen into. "Calm," he whispered, "Stay calm stay calm stay calm stay calm." The mantra didn't work. The voices were growing louder, building up to a crescendo.  
  
"How can they not see the scars?"  
  
"Should I go to the police?"  
  
"I'm sooo hungry..."  
  
"A minute until this class is over, thank Allah..."  
  
"Ew, fish sticks for lunch? Gross!"  
  
There was no one in the hallway. "What's happening to me?" John cried loudly. He whirled around again, still trying to find the source of the voices. Was he going crazy? Insane? Schizophrenics heard voices, but those were voices telling them to do bizarre things. This, it just sounded like people talking to themselves. Thinking...  
  
"Goddamned kids. Ungrateful brats..."  
  
"My period's late. How can I concentrate on history...?"  
  
"Lalala..."  
  
"What is the square root of x7­a34?"  
  
"He's so cute..."  
  
John's eyes rolled wildly, the whites showing in a nervous panic, as he tried futilely to find the source. "Oh god, just be quiet!"  
  
Then the bell rang, and it was as though a dam had broken and the river flooded violently into the valley, swamping everything in its path. As the kids poured out of their classrooms and into the hallway, their emotions, their thoughts, their pure intensity of feeling poured with them, too. It overwhelmed him, deafened him.  
  
"NO ONE UNDERSTANDS ME."  
  
"I WANT TO DIE."  
  
"MAYBE I'LL GO OUT WITH BRIAN TONIGHT?"  
  
"WAS I GOOD FOR HER?"  
  
John clutched at his head, attempting to block out the noise, block out the emotions, find surcease from the sudden tremor of shouts and calling. It wasn't their voices that hurt him so, it was something else, complicated picture and words tinged with deep feeling and subconscious longing, shade upon shade of convoluted humanity, all mixed up into a huge clamor and dumped into his ears.  
  
"SHUT UP!" he screamed, the force of the shout tearing his throat raw, "JUST SHUT UP! I CAN'T HEAR MYSELF THINK!"  
  
The assembled students stopped, and stared in concert, but the onslaught of noise continued. John, still clutching his hands to his ears, sank to the floor, sobbing. "Shut up..." he murmured over and over again, "Shut up... Quiet... Need quiet... Oh god, my head..."  
  
Several teachers ran to him, not sure whether to help him up or subdue him. Their nearness intensified their thoughts, and when he looked up at them, mucous streaming over his nose and mouth and tears leaking down his face, they were shocked at the primal quality to John's eyes. His face was pinched and he looked as though he'd aged years. "STAY BACK!" he shrieked.  
  
Although he couldn't tell, there was dead silence in the hall. And then the noise of their thoughts overwhelmed him, and he fell forward in a heap. As John toppled, the noise stopped abruptly, as though switched off with a mute button. The last thing he managed to choke out before darkness enveloped him completely was, "It feels so good... it feels so good..." and he clung to his silence and his sanity. 


End file.
